


Windows

by Nevermore_red



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Neighbors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Short with little plot, Smut, Voyeurism, light exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore_red/pseuds/Nevermore_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Premise taken from The Temptation of Severus Snape by gloryandfame. A lovely little SS/HG fic. Check it out! I read it and thought the story would fit nicely with our hound and little bird.</p><p>*EDITED AND UPDATED NOV. 2016*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sansa closed the door and dropped her keys onto the floor of the small entryway and looked around at the bare apartment. It was a tiny place, freshly polished parquet wood floors, plain white walls, a fairly recently updated kitchen that was separated from the living/dinning room by a small bar island. The lone piece of furniture was a sofa, her single purchase for her new life because it was all she could really afford for now. The rest of her belongings were still in boxes stacked neatly in a row along the wall. Despite the bleakness Sansa couldn't help but smile. This was where she would start her new life. A life away from controlling exes and constant reminders of the pain and loss those few dark years had brought her.

Rickon, Bran, and Arya hadn't been happy about her decision to move. Sansa couldn't blame them, but she also knew she needed to get away. She reasoned with them it wouldn't be far and they would still talk all the time and visit frequently. Sansa had already made plans for Rickon to come stay with her during his summer vacation from school next year. Jon had been just marginally better, but since he no longer lived at home either he couldn't complain much. Like Sansa, they were all dealing with the loss of their parents and Robb differently, but Sansa couldn't help think she was the catalyst that had started all the chaos even though her siblings all told her differently. Sansa knew better, though. Arya had tried to tell her to stay away from Joffrey. Heck, even Joffrey's own employee told her to get away from him. Sansa was just too stupid and naïve to listen to anyone, enamored as she was by the shiny polish of it all.

It was that employee who had helped her, and eventually saved her. He was rude and cruel and insulted her more than anyone else ever had in her life, but he was also right. And he'd gotten her back to Jon when the horror show had reached its breaking point. Sansa wasn't certain what had happened to Sandor Clegane in the two years since it had happened. She'd heard he'd gone to prison along with Cersei and Jaime Lannister, but she kept away from the tabloids and news reports as much as she could so she had no idea what his charges were or how long he would be there. Not that it mattered. He hated her just as he had hated everyone.

"You're nothing but a stupid little bird." he sneeringly told her on more than one occasion. But then he'd been so gentle with her the first night after Joff had beaten her, his massive hands so gentle on her skin as he cleaned up her wounds and told her how best to avoid his bosses wrath in the future. It was actually because of him that she had ended up here, in this city near the ocean. He'd told her about it once when he was drunk. Big enough that someone could disappear in. It was where he had been sent to recover after his time in the Navy, where he met Robert Baratheon and hired on with him when Robert moved. Sansa wondered what he would think, knowing she'd chosen this place as her new home because of his story of how it had been his one safe haven.

Pushing thoughts of scarred men and any of the Baratheon's out of her head, she shoved off the door and walked over to the far wall, which was nothing but floor to ceiling windows. It was her selling point on the place. Sitting on the fifth floor, she looked down at the fairly quiet street below now shadowed by the sinking sun. Her building sat on the out skirts of town; she couldn't afford anything in town, so it wasn't busy with the hustle and bustle. Glancing up at the building just across the way she looked at the windows that were lit up from inside, and wondered what those peoples lives were like. Had they seen Hell as she had? Were they patched up with stitches and band aides and put together with forced smiles and a fresh coat of lipstick?

"You're pitiful." she told herself, then resolutely turned back to her new home and leaned back against the window for a moment. She would not be pitiful any longer. She was going to be happy. Digging through her boxes until she found her iPhone speaker, she plugged it in and hooked her phone into it, turning up the music as loud as it would go on her favorite collection of Elton John, she sang loudly along with the music and danced around her empty apartment until she was panting for breath and sweaty from the humidity and the lack of air conditioning. Then she opened her windows, removed her jeans and kept on dancing until she couldn't move any more. It felt good and she found herself laughing out loud at herself. She could remember her mother doing the same thing. Turning up oldies loudly while she cleaned or cooked, her graceful movements as she danced. For the first time in two years, the memories didn't bring about a sharp pain, but a sense of happiness and fondness that she had those memories at all.

Her mirth died a little when she realized she had no bed and her newly bought sofa was to be her bed for an unknown amount of time. With a resigned sigh, she flipped off her speakers and lights and lay down on the sofa, deciding to sleep in her tank top and panties that she'd been dancing in since it was far too hot for anything else. The last thought she had was to look into how much a window unit air conditioner would be.

***

The next day she got up and showered early, catching a bus into town and to the library where she was going to start work next week just to look over the place. She met a few of her coworkers there, and her boss Brienne took her out for lunch before Sansa had to head back to the apartment and start the undesirable task of unpacking her things. When she got to her apartment, however, she was surprised to see a large square package sitting at her door. Curious, Sansa picked it up before going inside to the bar to open it. The box said it was from a local record store, just a few blocks from here and a ticket taped to it said a carrier had knocked with no response. A little excited, Sansa quickly opened the box and pulled out an old vinyl record. She gasped in awed shock when she saw the cover. Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. Her happiness quickly morphed into panic when she remembered that was what she was dancing to last night. Clutching the record to her chest, she spun around but her apartment was empty. How could someone know she was listening to that music just last night? Tiptoeing, though she wasn't sure why, to her windows she looked out at the building around her. Had one of her neighbors heard her with her windows open? Movement in the windows directly across from her own caught her attention and when she saw who was standing there she gasped so hard she dropped the record. Her reaction elicited a curling of his mouth on the good side. As she stood gaping at him he bent over a table to his side and scribbled something before raising the paper to the glass of his windows.

**Curtains, Ms. Stark.**

Sansa couldn't think of a single thing to say or do, so she kept standing there, kept gaping at him. How was it that Sandor Clegane was staring back at her right now? And how was it that even at this distance the grey of his eyes could still spark with danger and intensity? Then an uneasy feeling trickled down her spine. Why was he here? Had he known? Was he following her? Stalking her? All those thoughts filtered through her mind as she kept staring over at him and before she could come up with a way to ask him he raised another piece of paper to the window.

**How'd you find me?**

The question put her immediately at ease, as did the complete seriousness of his gaze. He really hadn't known she was here. He wasn't stalking her and Sansa felt silly for ever thinking he would. Sandor Clegane was a lot of things, but a stalker wasn't one of them. He was far too forthright. Not having paper to write him Sansa shook her head and shrugged, letting him know she hadn't known. He nodded his understanding. Regaining some of her composure she picked up the record and held it aloft and mouthed thank you. He only shook his head, still scowling, and turned away from his window and moved out of sight. Sansa stood there for a bit longer before she finally realized she was staring at nothing with a silly smile on her face so she turned back to her apartment and began the task of unpacking and wondering just how much a record player would cost. It was about an hour later that the realization hit her, and with it came a hot rush of mortification.

Sandor had seen her dancing around in her apartment in nothing but panties and a tank top.

***

"What do you mean he's there?" Arya asked in disbelief when Sansa called her the next day.

"He lives in the apartment directly across from me."

"Holy shit, San." Arya breathed. "Is he stalking you? You need to call Jon. Surely he can do something about it. He works for the fucking FBI for Christ's sake. He's got to be good for something."

"He's not stalking me. He was just as surprised to see me, if not more." Sansa decided to forgo telling her sister about the dancing half naked part, or the record the following morning.

"You scared of him?" Arya asked and Sansa took a breath through her nose as she leaned against the side of her windows and looked at Sandor's still empty ones. She hadn't seen him again.

"No." She had been at once, but he had done too much for her, risked too much and she had a sinking feeling that she might of been the reason he'd gone to prison in the first place. "No, he's done too much for me. He...he was the only kindness I knew when I was with Joffrey."

Arya was silent a long time before she spoke. "You should go talk to him."

"No!" Sansa gasped. "No. I got him into so much trouble. I ruined everything for him. There is no way he wants to see me."

Arya's laugh could barely be heard over the phone. "Whatever. Look, San, I gotta go. I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah. Give Rickon a hug from me and tell Gendry I said hi."

"Will do."

***

The rest of the week went by in a blurred rush of unpacking and rearranging and oppressive heat. Sansa broke down and bought two fans to help with the open windows. Brienne had come by with a house warming gift that turned out to be a Louisville Slugger baseball bat to keep by her front door and a bottle of Meerenese wine and helped her unpack some. She even gave her a bed, for free, that she was trying to get rid of since she'd gotten a new bedroom set. Sansa had taken it gratefully and offered to make dinner for the other woman the night Brienne brought it over. Sansa had been impressed when Brienne hauled the thing up to her place by herself with little trouble. All in all, it was a good week and Sansa couldn't wait to start work. She hadn't seen Sandor at all, and she kept trying to convince herself it didn't matter, or that when she stood by the windows she wasn't looking for him. She even tried to tell herself that she was keeping a dry erase board and a marker on the bar for her grocery list instead of being able to write him a message. It would actually be another month before she saw him again.

Sansa was sitting in the seat of the open windows, looking at the gathering storm clouds in the distance, enjoying the cool night breeze. She hadn't even been looking at his window, which was rare, her open and, for the moment, forgotten copy of A Moveable Feast laying in her lap. His light flicking on caught her attention and she looked away from the lightening in the distance to find his huge frame in the window. She smiled and lifted a hand in a wave, one that he didn't return. The smile or the wave. Neither one of them moved for a long moment, then Sandor bent over the table next to him and started writing. Sansa smiled again and straightened up a little while she waited.

**Those shorts are far too short.**

**You need curtains, Ms. Stark.**

Sansa blushed and laughed at the same time. Her shorts were far too short, but it was also hot and she wasn't doing anything but staying at home this night anyway. Uncurling her legs from under her, she stood and sat her book down. Lifting a finger, she indicated for him to wait before going to grab her dry erase board. Coming back to the window, she made sure he was still waiting then crawled back up onto the window seat and quickly wrote a note.

**It's too hot for more. No AC.**

Sandor took in the note and shook his head before writing again.

**What are you reading?**

His question threw her for a moment. It was such a casual thing to ask. Sandor Clegane had never before been a casual man. Ignoring it for now, she answered him, holding both the board and the book up.

**Hemingway. You like him?**

She thought she seen him smile before replying.

**An alcoholic war journalist with a love of women? Sure. Who wouldn't?**

Sansa couldn't help but laugh out loud. She never would have guessed that Sandor knew anything about an author, but come to think of it, Hemingway suited him.

**He also loved cats.**

Sandor just shrugged. She could almost guess what he was thinking. Everyone has their flaws. It started raining then and it was going to make it difficult to continue communicating this way. Sansa made a split second decision.

 **It's raining. Come over and we can talk more Hemingway**.

She bit her lip nervously as she looked at him through the rain that was quickly making it hard to see him. His eyes shifted from the board to her and he shook his head no. Her heart sank and she let the board fall. Why did it matter? She supposed it didn't. Not really. She wasn't sure how long she stood there staring out at the pouring rain before she decided it was time for bed.

***

"Just walk around naked a lot and I'm sure he'll come running."

Sansa gasped at Randa's words and quickly looked around the staff break room, but they were alone. Even though they hadn't worked together for very long, Sansa had come to realize Randa was a very...open person about her sexuality.

"Oh, come on." Randa laughed around a cup of coffee. "You really think he would turn you down? Honey, you're hot. You've got the body of damn dancer. Show it off."

Sansa rolled her eyes, but couldn't quite shrug off the idea. What would it hurt? Her pride. And did she really want him to think of her that way? Did she actually think of him that way? No. Not really. Or, at least she didn't think so. But as the days passed and turned into another two weeks, she couldn't quite convince herself of that any longer. Especially when she hadn't seen him again.

In an effort to put him out of her mind, Sansa decided to have a party at her apartment. A goodbye to summer sort of thing. Problem was, she only had a few friends. Brienne really. There was Randa and Jeyne from the library, and even though they weren't that close, she invited them anyway. She never once thought they'd show, or bring some of their friends like she'd told them they could but suddenly Sansa found herself with a packed apartment on a Saturday night and despite the body heat, everyone seemed to be having a fun time, Sansa included. She imbibed in more alcohol than normal and danced and laughed and learned to play a game called flip cup that she turned out to be really good at, or so she was told. She only found herself looking out at Sandor's window a few times throughout the night. Once she'd found him looking right back at her. She smiled at him broadly and waved enthusiastically. He'd only nodded his head slightly in response, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. Buzzing from the drinks, she waved him over, letting him know she wanted him to join the party. His mouth opened like he would say something and her heart picked up a little, but then he shook his head no and he was gone again.

"Was that him?" Sansa swirled around and found Randa standing just behind her.

"Yes." Sansa cast another glance at his now empty window before pushing through the crowd to the kitchen.

"He's huge." Randa followed her. "I didn't get a good look at his face, though. He hot?"

"Undeniably." Sansa surprised herself by answering without thought.

"Seduce him, Sansa." Randa whispered in her ear, then slapped her butt before going back to the party.

After everyone left, and Sansa convinced Brienne to leave as well, that she could deal with the mess in the morning, Sansa poured herself a glass of water and drifted back to the windows. She dug into her glass and scooped out a piece of ice, rubbing it against her lips as she watched Sandor's window. How did one seduce someone they couldn't touch or talk to? A million movie scenes flashed through her mind and all of the sudden she was looking into steel grey eyes and her body tensed, the ice slipping out of her fingers to drop back into her glass. He'd changed from his jeans to a pair of pajama pants and t shirt with the sleeves ripped off. As she looked at him his eyes flashed down to her glass then back at her. A wicked thought entered her head and she grinned.

Stepping closer to the window and setting her glass down on the floor by her feet, she scooped out a piece of ice before standing. She held it up between two fingers for him to see. His eyes flicked to it, then back to her. She grinned again as she brought it to her lips and traced them with it, letting the water that melted drip down her chin and onto her chest. Still holding his gaze, she drew a line down to the tip of her chin, then up the line of her jaw to just under her ear. She closed her eyes and shivered as icy water trailed down her neck and pooled in hollow of her collar bone. Opening her eyes, she found Sandor still there, now with his hands braced on the glass on either side of his head, the muscles of his arms tense and standing out. He was no longer looking at her face, but watching intently as she drew the ice down the side of her neck, across her collar bone, pausing at the base of her throat before running it down her chest and into the line of her cleavage revealed by the scoop neck top she wore. She pulled the top down even more with her free hand, just enough that the top of her bra cups showed, letting him see the white lace, tracing the curves with the ice. When she got back to the valley of her breasts, she lost the tiny piece of ice that was all that remained. She was panting from her daring, from the arousal that was swirling inside of her at his eyes on her. Licking her lips, she pressed her hands against the window, mimicking his pose. His eyes slowly drew away from her chest to her face. His jaw was taunt, his facial expression fierce. His forehead pressed against the glass for a brief second, then he shoved away from the window and he was gone. His light turned out a moment later. Sansa closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the window, trying to regain some of her control and douse the heat that was still surging through her body. He'd been interested. She might not be a femme fatal, but damn it, she knew he liked what he was watching.

She spent the rest of the night waiting for a knock at her door. One that never came.


	2. Chapter 2

Sansa felt irrationally nervous the next morning when she woke up with a headache and feeling a little nauseous from the alcohol she'd drank the night before. She cowardly stayed out of the living room most of the morning, not leaving her bed until she was forced to get out of bed for hunger. But even then she skirted around the windows so she didn't have to face Sandor. His rejection had been entirely too embarrassing, as was her wanton display.

She vowed never to drink again.

Eventually curiosity got her and she went to the windows several times during the day, but he was never there. And he wouldn't be there again until a few days later.

**Let me guess...you're never drinking again.**

Sansa let out a breath as the tension leaked out of her and she laughed, thankful he'd broken the awkwardness she was feeling.

**Never!**

She agreed on her board. It looked like he might have chuckled and she did as well.

**What's with the pumpkin?**

Sansa cocked her brow at his next note, then he tilted his head to the small kitchen table she had placed next to the windows. Sitting on it was her failed attempt at carving one. She laughed at herself then shrugged at Sandor.

**Halloween plans?**

She wrote him back, then winced to herself. He'd turned her down three times now. Of course he would say no again.

**Sleeping. You?**

She thought about inviting him to the costume party at the library, but decided against it. She wasn't going to be that needy.

**Work party.**

She made a face like she wasn't excited and he grinned again. He tipped his head in a gesture goodbye and Sansa sighed. It was an odd sort of friendship they were having, but maybe it was okay. Maybe this was all they ever could have. Or all that he wanted anyway.

***

It was a week later and Sansa was running late for the party at the library. She felt silly, but she was actually excited about it even though it was meant for kids. Their costumes were supposed to be inspired by children's literature so Sansa was going as Little Red Riding Hood. It had been surprisingly difficult to find a non sexy version of it, so Sansa had made her own. It was in the typical style. Red skirt that reached just above her ankles, a black corset style top with a white blouse underneath, leaving everything covered. She had a red silk cape with a hood, and had braided her hair off to the side. She was in her living room slipping on her black flats at her dinning room table when she saw Sandor come to his window. She stood up and waved at him, holding up her board.

**Happy Halloween!**

He nodded at her, then lifted a brow, motioning to her outfit. Sansa smiled and sat her board down, pulling up the hood and doing a little spin for him before writing him again.

**Little Red Riding Hood. You like?**

He took a moment, scratching the burnt side of his jaw as he wrote.

**I thought women used Halloween to dress slutty.**

Sansa laughed at the almost disappointed look on his face before picking up her marker.

**It's a kids party at the library. No sexiness for me this year.**

His body jerked slightly like he huffed a breath, then he shook his head as he wrote.

**I said slutty not sexy.**

**You, little bird, look sexy no matter what you wear.**

Sansa felt her breath whoosh out of her lungs and she bit her bottom lip hard. For some reason, tears threatened. He called her little bird. It brought back the long ago memory of a single night that he'd drunkenly pressed her up against a wall, his whiskey coated breath whispering that moniker as his lips came devastatingly close to hers.

Her phone ringing tore her attention back to her own apartment and she glanced down to see Brienne was calling her. Likely she was downstairs waiting to take her into the library. She looked back up at Sandor and waved at him. He gave her a mock solute in return. Reluctantly Sansa left.

***

After he'd made that comment about her being sexy Sansa thought she'd start seeing more of him, or that maybe he'd come over. He never did though. As the weeks passed and Thanksgiving came and went where she returned home to spend time with her family she only saw him a few times and it was always brief with him giving hardly more than a passing wave or a couple of words written out to her.

So she gave up on him, or gave up on the idea of him really.

There was a man, a friend of a friends of Brienne's that she'd met a few times that had been coming in the library more and more frequently to see her and he'd asked her out. It was two weeks before Christmas and she'd finally said yes. Teagan was his name. He was nice enough, if not overly so, and fairly handsome. Blonde hair, brown eyes, a kind smile. He stood eye to eye with Sansa when she wore flats and she considered briefly not wearing heels, but damn it, she liked her heels so she was going to wear them. Brienne went shopping with her the day before and helped her pick out a dress. It was black, figure hugging and ended just above her knees. The top was off the shoulders with quarter length black lace sleeves. Sansa left her hair down in soft waves and put on more makeup than she normally wore.

Sitting on her sofa, she slipped on her heels and stood up to find Sandor's light on so she went to her window. He went to wave at her, but his hand faltered half way up, his eyes skimming down her body slowly before coming back up to meet hers. Sansa couldn't help but smile a little sadly at his reaction. Why on earth was he not perusing what he obviously wanted? Jaw clenched tightly he all but slammed a piece of paper to the window.

**Date?**

Sansa swallowed at his obvious anger. What did he have to be angry about? She could date whomever she wanted, especially since he wasn't making any moves. So why did she still feel a bit guilty about leaving with Teagan soon?

 **Yes**.

Was all she wrote, then she shook herself and added,

**Do I look alright?**

She found herself actually wanting his opinion, his approval. Holding out her arms she shifted from side to side a little. He visibly swallowed, running his knuckles along his burn scars before responding.

**You look fucking terrible. Go change. Sweats would be ideal.**

Out and out laughing, Sansa almost missed the knock at her door. Glancing back at it, her laughter died. Feeling confused and a little angry about the situation she went to the door and opened it.

"Good evening, Sansa." Teagan greeted her with a smile. "You look ravishing."

Ravishing? Who used words like that? Sansa forced a smile and stepped to the side so he could come in.

"Thank you. Let me grab my coat and we can go."

She turned back into the apartment and went to the kitchen table where her coat was draped over one of the chairs. Teagan followed her and before she could put the coat on, he took it from her and held it out with a wide smile. Turning her back on him, she looked out at Sandor's window to find him still watching. She couldn't even muster a smile for him as she stared, probably a little longingly. So much for pride.

 _This is your fault, you big idiot._ She thought to him. _I want this to be you._

Behind her, Teagan was going on and on about the evening he had planned for them, but Sansa couldn't concentrate on him. Not when Sandor held his final sign up to the glass.

**Stay.**

The paper was wrinkled up slightly from his grip, his other fist pressed firmly to the window next to it. Sansa swallowed hard and spun around to face Teagan. He smiled at her expectantly.

"I'm not feeling well, actually." she said in a rush of breath.

"You do look flushed." he said, placing the backs of his fingers on her cheek. "Can I get you something? I could run go get you some medicine if need be."

Sansa winced at how sweet he was. "No, thank you. I think I may just need to sleep."

Teagan nodded his understanding.

"Shall we reschedule then?" he asked hopefully but something in Sansa's face must have revealed how little the idea thrilled her. "Perhaps not." he smiled a little wistfully. "I thought maybe you were just being kind in not turning me down."

"Teagan, I'm..." he held up his hand and stopped her.

"Have a good evening, Sansa." he turned to leave. "I hope you feel better soon."

Unable to say anything else to him, she watched as he left. Turning back to the window, Sandor was no longer there. Anger washed through her and she jerked her coat off and threw it as hard as she could at the windows. Damn him. Damn him all to hell. A single written sign from him and she was sending off the first man who had been interested in her in more than two years. For what? More written conversations that happened few and far between?

"Stupid little bird, indeed." she muttered to herself, kicking her heels off angrily. Reaching behind her she jerked the zipper of the dress down. She'd gotten one arm out of it's sleeve when Sandor reappeared. She froze in the motion to remove the other arm, achingly aware of the fact she wore a sheer black strapless bra and matching sheer black panties under her dress. He seemed to be just as unable to move as she for a long moment. Then he reached for his paper.

 **Keep going**.

Sansa's stomach dropped and a rush of heat flooded her body as she stayed frozen, debating. Before she was even fully aware of her decision, her second arm was freeing itself from the dress. She held the fabric to her chest for a long second, gathering her courage. Sandor watched her unblinking, his sign still pressed against the window. Taking a breath, she pushed the dress down and bent forward at the waist to shimmy it past her hips. When it pooled at her feet, she stood straight again, her nerves and arousal making her tremble. He was an entire building away from her and yet she could feel the heat of his gaze lick up her body, lingering on where her stockings hugged the middle of her thighs. The black of her lingerie made her pale skin nearly glow in comparison, the harsh contrast visible in her vague reflection on the glass. When his eyes hit her chest, where her aching nipples pressed tightly against the transparent material of her bra, a dark flush rose into his cheeks, high lighting his sharp cheekbone on the unburnt side. His tongue ran over his bottom lip and he looked back at her, the hand not holding the paper going to his groin and readjusting himself.

Sansa's mouth fell open, a tingle tightening her core.

Sandor waited for her eyes to come back to his, never removing his hand from himself, though only on the outside of his pants, he knocked on the glass with the hand still holding the sign. A clear indication he wanted her to continue.

Sansa felt like someone else had taken over her body. She was not this person. She was not a woman who would stand nearly naked at her window and strip for a man. And, yet, here she was. Reaching behind her and finding the hooks of her bra and undoing them, tossing the garment across the room with a flick of her wrist. The sign slipped free of Sandor's hand, his forearm coming up to brace on the window above his head. The hand at his groin moving back and forth ever so subtly. He didn't ask for more and Sansa wasn't entirely comfortable doing more. But she stood there for a prolonged moment, letting him look at her. She felt hot and trembly, but also intensely lonely.

Abruptly, he pushed away from the window and then he was gone. Again. Leaving Sansa almost naked and slightly ashamed of herself.

***

The next day a little thing called karma visited Sansa. She woke up with a sore throat, her head pounding, and a nose that ran like a leaky faucet. She took it as payment for being so rude to Teagan and ditching him like she had. Glad it was a Sunday, Sansa stayed in bed all morning and most of the afternoon, only getting up when she needed to vomit or once when Arya called and again when Jon called. They both fussed and worried, Jon telling her he would call an ambulance for her if need be. Sansa had firmly, or as firm as she could manage while unable to hold her head up, told him she was capable of taking care of herself.

Monday morning came and found her still sick, though she hadn't thrown up since late the night before. A call to Brienne let her have the day off from work. It was late afternoon before she felt well enough to get up. Wearing her purple thermal pajamas with little pink bunnies on them, she piled her dirty and tangled hair on top of her head in a messy knot and grabbed her box of tissues and ventured into the living room to watch a movie. As she passed her windows, she saw Sandor sitting at the table he had next to his windows, concentrating hard on what must have been a computer screen off to the side she couldn't see. She hadn't actually thought about it before, but now she was wondering what Sandor did here. Who was able just to stay home on a Monday? Maybe he worked from home, seeing as he was working on a computer at the moment.

Her movement drew his attention and he glanced up to look at her, a frown instantly pulling the corners of his mouth when he saw her. He looked back down at his desk and started writing before standing and pressing the paper to the glass.

**You okay?**

Sansa held up a finger and shuffled over to get her board and marker before returning to him, only mildly embarrassed at her state of appearance. He'd seen her breasts, now he could look at her bunny pajamas and dirty hair.

**Sick.**

She made a face, her tongue out, when she held up the board. He gave her a somewhat sympathetic look then held up another piece of paper.

**Nice PJs.**

Sansa laughed, then moaned when it made her head hurt and she held onto it so it didn't explode. Moving more slowly now, she wrote back to him.

**Jerk.**

Sandor simply shrugged at that, then wrote her again.

**Feel better.**

She thought about telling him she'd feel better once he stopped teasing her, but just gave a sigh and nodded. She wasn't up for sparring with him right now. Giving him a wave, she went to her sofa and curled up with a thick blanket and found Love Actually on Netflix. The movie was almost over, and Sansa was just thinking she might try to eat something for dinner, though she wasn't sure she had anything she could keep down, when a knock came at her door. At first she thought it might be Sandor, but quickly squashed that idea. It was probably Brienne. She'd text her about an hour ago checking in on her. Getting up from the sofa, she padded over to the front door and looked out the peephole to find a short woman with greying hair holding a white plastic sack. Grabbing up her bat, Sansa carefully unlocked the door and opened it just a bit.

"Can I help you?" she croaked.

"Delivery for Sansa Stark." the woman held up the sack.

"I didn't order anything."

"It says it's for Sansa Stark, at this address." the woman smacked a wad of gum. "That you?"

"It is." Sansa let the door open a little more. "What is it?"

"Chicken soup and some crackers." The woman snapped, obviously a little impatient. Confused, Sansa took the sack from her.

"How much?"

"Whoever called it in paid for it. Gave a tip too." With that, the woman was gone and Sansa slowly stepped inside and closed the door. With her feeling poorly it took longer than usual for dawning to occur. She crossed to the bar and emptied out the sack. The plastic lid on the Styrofoam soup cup had a note scribbled on it.

 _Feel better, little bird_.

It wasn't his hand writing, which was actually surprisingly neat, but he'd obviously asked the note to be written. And he'd paid for her soup. For some ridiculous reason, she started crying. What was he doing to her? He was so damned confusing he was driving her insane. He wasn't back at his window at any point that day so she wasn't able to thank him. The soup actually tasted good and she felt much better after eating. Enough so that she went back to work the following day.

***

Sansa was a little sad that she'd decided not to go back home for Christmas. Arya was going to Gendry's home town with him, Bran and Rickon had gone to their uncle Edmure's cabin on the river, and Jon couldn't get off work. They'd all agreed they'd get together New Years at Sansa's to make up for it. Brienne had been kind enough to invite Sansa over to her fathers house for Christmas dinner, but Sansa wasn't sure she wanted to go or not. She still had two days to decide.

It likely wouldn't snow at all in her new town, and that made her a little sad. Snow was one of her favorite parts of winter, and back home they had it in droves.

Sansa sat curled up on her window seat yet again, drinking a cup of hot chocolate and looking at her newly lit tree when she saw Sandor move up to his window, tossing something onto the table next to him. She waved at him and he nodded towards her. Picking up her board from by her feet, she was the first one to write.

**Merry Christmas.**

Sandor picked up his paper pad and wrote her back.

 **Not yet. Nice tree**.

Sansa looked at said tree and nodded. It was a nice tree. She picked up her marker.

**Big holiday plans?**

She knew the second she wrote the question what his answer would be. Sandor didn't have a family to share the holidays with and he'd never had many friends either. He very obviously scoffed and lifted his one brow at her in answer before writing her.

**You going back home for it?**

Sansa shook her head no and he furrowed his brow at that.

**What are you doing?**

She smiled at his question and debated on how to answer him for a long time, writing and erasing, then rewriting again before finally holding up her board.

**Waiting. Like I have been for almost 6 months.**

She saw his face tighten, and she could almost see the burnt corner of his mouth twitch. She remembered it doing it frequently when he was annoyed or angered.

**For what?**

Sansa scoffed herself at that and felt the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she sat down her board and pointed at him while saying 'you' out loud.

The pad of paper he was holding was slammed down onto the desk next to him, followed by the pen being thrown on top of it. Sandor seemed to glare at her for a long time, and then he was gone. Sansa sighed and rose from her spot by the windows, going to the kitchen to put her mug in the dishwasher. She was walking through the apartment flipping off lights in preparation for bed when someone knocked on her door.

No, that wasn't knocking. Someone was _pounding_ on her door. Her heart leapt into her throat when it first boomed into her apartment and she jumped. Moving to the door she picked up her bat and peeked out the hole and swore she almost fainted when she saw the slightly warped face of Sandor Clegane on the other side. She stepped back and covered her mouth, her heart racing in her chest. Holy crap. He was there. He'd finally come.

"Open the door." his raspy steel on stone voice boomed through the door causing her to jump again. Fumbling with the locks, she finally got them undone and swung open the door. Sandor stood on the other side, hands braced on the frame on either side of the door. She'd forgotten just how big he was up close. How intimidating he could be. How wonderfully masculine he was. Her whole body was hot and shaky.

"Ask me in." he rasped again. "Or have you just been teasing for the last half a fucking year?"

"You're the one who kept turning me down." she reminded him, finally finding her voice.

"Were you offering?" he demanded, still holding the door frame.

Sansa swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes I was offering."

He pointedly glanced at the baseball bat still clutched in her hand. "You plan on beating me with that if I come in?"

Sansa stepped closer to the door and put the bat back in the corner. "No. Please, come in."

"Always so damn polite." was all he said before he stepped inside, grabbing her wrist at the same time as he did. He kicked the door shut with his foot behind him even as he pulled her flush against his much bigger and much harder body. With his free hand, he took hold of her chin and lifted her face to his. Sansa was dizzy with how fast it was all happening and she let out a breath as she closed her eyes and went on tiptoe to meet him.

A second before his mouth touched hers he whispered, "Nice PJs." Then he was kissing her. Really kissing her. A way no man, ever, had kissed her before. It was hot and demanding but oddly gentle as his fingers slid from her chin to the nape of her neck, twining into her hair. His other hand released her wrist and snaked around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. His tongue licked out, and she opened for him immediately, welcoming him into her mouth as she wrapped both arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him. His tongue felt thrilling against hers, taunting and teasing before coaxing her into his own mouth, sucking the tip lightly and causing her to moan hungrily.

No one had ever sucked on her tongue before.

They kissed like that for what seemed like forever, but not nearly long enough when he pulled his mouth free although he didn't release his hold on her. He looked down into her eyes, the greys of his hot and intense.

Sansa licked her lips, tasting him, and then said, "Thanks for the soup."

He laughed at her and loosened his hold until they were standing a step away from each other. "You're welcome." he ran a calloused thumb over her bottom lip that now felt swollen. "You're not sick anymore, are you?"

Now it was Sansa's turn to laugh.

"No. A little late to worry about that, though."

"Good." the humor drained out of his expression and he started moving towards her, forcing her to back up as well until her the backs of her knees hit the arm of her sofa.

"Sandor." she said his name, needing to hear it out loud, to make this more real. Color slashed across his unburnt cheek.

"Say that again." he nearly growled. "Say my name again." He stopped with the toes of his black boots on either side of her bare feet, his breath warming her face.

"Sandor." she whispered, aware of the fact she'd never called him by his given name before. "Kiss me again. Please." He smirked at her courtesy, but gave her what she asked for, slower this time, more passionate and less desperate, but still achingly wonderful. As he kissed her breathless, his big warm hands worked up under her pajama top, the one with the bunnies on it, spanning her sides and skimming up her ribs, purposefully steering clear of her breasts, unbound by a bra, and stopped just under her arms.

"Lift." he said against her lips. Sansa didn't miss that he'd said the demand almost like a question. He wasn't going to force her. He was making it her choice.

Sansa lifted her arms and let him remove the shirt in a crackle of static. They both laughed when her hair stuck out all over from the electricity. He leaned back, keeping their lower bodies pressed together, and smoothed down the flyaways with both hands before letting them drift down her chest and frame her breasts.

"Perfect." he whispered roughly. "Bloody fucking perfect." with that, he wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned her back, bowing her body over the sofa before laving his tongue up the valley between her breasts to the hollow of her throat. Sansa gasped as her nipples hardened even more and his mouth kissed down her chest.

"I've thought about doing this ever since you played with that piece of fucking ice."

"Took you long enough." She panted. When he chuckled against her breast she thought about smacking him, but then he was drawing her nipple gently between his lips, the burnt tissue scraping lightly, raising goose bumps along her skin at the same time her belly tightened and a new rush of moisture coated her panties. She clutched harder to his shoulders, her back bowing even harder against the arm that was holding her up. Sansa shifted her hips against him, searching for a way to ease the throbbing ache. Sandor felt her moving, then obliged her by shoving his thigh between her legs and helping her to rock against him. She could feel his hardness against her hip and that made her even more desperate. When he switched to her other nipple, Sansa skimmed one hand down his torso, feeling the hard heat of his muscles under his shirt. When she reached the waistband of his jeans, she quickly flicked open the snap and shoved her hand inside both the denim and the cotton of his underwear to grab hold of the hot, hard length of him. Sandor jerked against her, his mouth leaving her nipple with a pop.

"Christ, don't stop." he thrust against her hand, shoving himself through her grip. His reaction turned her on more than she'd thought possible and she ground down harder on the bunched muscle of his thigh, gasping out loud at how good it felt. How much more she needed.

"Please, Sandor." she groaned. "I need more. Please." With a harsh sound, he tore her hand free of his jeans and lifted her off her feet. Sansa immediatly wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Here, or your bed?" he asked against her throat before raking his teeth across the tendons there.

"My bed." she panted. "Just down the hall. The only door on the right." He stumbled down the dark hall, never lifting his head from her neck, kissing and nipping and licking while his hands moved to her bottom and massaged the flesh that overflowed his hands in a way that kept her squirming against the hardness of his abdomen she was pressed against.

"Oh, Gods." she panted. "Hurry. Hurry, Sandor."

"Yeah." he agreed, nearly falling into her room and dropping her heavily onto her bed. She barely had time to blink before her bottoms and panties were being dragged down her legs. The lamp beside her bed clicked on and she scooted up towards the pillows and watched as he jerkily disrobed himself at the foot of her bed. Gods, he was almost too much. His heavily muscled body was massive, lethal looking and covered in random scars here and there. A large anchor tattoo decorated his left peck, wrapped up in rope with the letters USN across it. She wanted to touch it, kiss it.

He stood motionless for a minute, letting her look at him as he looked at her. Her eyes unerringly drifted down to his erection and she gulped. His size didn't surprise her. Nothing on Sandor Clegane was small and this was no different. But she felt no trepidation, no worry or fear. He wouldn't hurt her, of that she was certain.

She grinned when he started crawling up the bed towards her, shoving her legs further apart as he came between them, dropping kisses along her calves, her knees, her thighs, then each of her hips. His grey eyes flicked up to hers as he lowered his mouth to the skin just above the curls that covered her mound.

"Sandor." she breathed, bitting her bottom lip. She was so anxious for him, so ready for him, that she was shaking. And he felt it.

"Later." he told her, or maybe himself, coming up to brace his arms on either side of her torso, his mouth meeting hers softly for a second. "I don't have a fucking condom." he groaned, his head falling to the pillow under her.

"I do." she told him. "There, in my nightstand."

His head jerked up from her pillow and his eyes narrowed at her.

"Did you fuck him?" It took Sansa a moment to realize who Sandor was asking about. Teagan. Of course it was Teagan. Anger rushed up through her and she opened her mouth to snap at him, but he spoke before she could. "It's alright if you did." he scowled hard. "It's none of my bloody business."

Her anger vanished before it could ever really take hold. "No." she assured him. "I...I bought them after the ice incident. Just in case." His chest heaved slightly with what could have been relief and he leaned over the side of the bed to reach into her nightstand drawer. When he pulled his hand back out, it wasn't the unopened box of condoms he held, but her purple glittery rabbit ear vibrator. She gasped as he held it up, a smirk on his face with his brow raised.

"You got a thing for bunnies?"

"Shut up." she snatched the device out of his hand and placed it on the stand. "It's been a long six months of waiting for you."

The humor left him and he kissed her hard. "I'll make it worth it." Then he dug into the drawer and finally pulled out the small box. Raising up onto his knees between her legs, he tore it open and ripped off a square package before tossing the rest of them next to her vibrator. Opening it with his teeth, he rolled the latex over his length and she thought momentarily she should have gotten a bigger size. Once it was on, he ran his hands up her thighs, his callouses and the burn scars of his left hand scraping wonderfully along her skin. He continued up her stomach, pausing at her breast to play with her nipples for a moment, then his fingers tangled into her hair on either side of her head.

"You'll have to live without forplay for now, little bird." he lowered his body over hers, the head of his cock sliding along her folds. "I want in you so bloody bad."

"You've given me six months of long distance forplay." she reminded him, her own hands running down his chest, her fingers playing across the ridges of his muscles and tangling in the thick matting of dark hair. "I'm all yours."

His mouth firmed and his eyes flashed with some sort of emotion that he got quickly under control and masked once again. Reaching between their bodies he guided himself along her, the backs of his knuckles grazing the sensitive wet flesh. They both hissed in a breath.

"This for me?" The question could have been one of a egotistical, confident man revealing in his prowess, but Sansa could hear and see the vulnerability in his tone and expression. She lifted her hands from his chest and cupped both sides of his face, willing him to see the truth of her words.

"For you." she whispered. "All for you. Now, please." she nipped his bottom lip. "I'm ready." A low sound rumbled from his chest and he pressed forward with his hips, slowly working his length in her with a subtle back and forth motion, each time going deeper and he was finally, finally, all the way inside of her.

"Christ." he gasped, shoving against her harder. "Sansa." he shifted his position then, going to an elbow braced next to her shoulder and running his other hand down to grab hold of her knee and bring her leg up along his side. The act shifted him deeper inside of her and she sucked in a breath, her eyes rolling shut.

"Open your eyes." he said softly. Then firmer, "Look at me, Sansa!" Her eyes shot open and he pulled his hips slowly back before snapping forward again, her body taking him all the way inside of her with a subtle slap of their skin. He kept that pace, a slow withdrawl, a quick, rough thrust forward. It was maddening and perfect and with every thrust forward she was thrown closer to the edge. Aside from the overwhelming sensation of him moving inside of her, of her bodies climb towards completion, she couldn't help but watch him closely, still in slight disbelief that she was having sex with Sandor Clegane. From the way his molten sliver eyes swirled with roiling emotions, the way he was searching her face so intently, she figured he was thinking the same thing. Sweat broke out along his skin, his long hair clinging to the moisture on his unscarred side. Sansa smoothed it back, then griped his hair in both hands, her back arching off the mattress when his hand slid from her hip to where they were joined, his long rough fingers searching out and finding her swollen clit.

"Is this what you need?" his voice had dropped so low, so rasping, that it felt like a physical caress against her overheated skin.

"Yes." she moaned, wrapping both legs around his hips, the heels of her feet digging into the solid and flexing muscles of his ass. "Gods, yes. Don't stop. Please, Sandor, keep going." She nearly sobbed the words, her body feeling as if it was opening up, searching, reaching, then finding and crashing. A rush of heat and pleasure sufficed her body and she cried out at the sensation, her body tightening and gripping his. She was dimly aware of his grumbled curse, of his upkick in movement. His hand left her clit, wrapping tightly around her hip as he thrust in short, quick thrusts and then he was coming with a growl. Sansa watched him in awed wonder. His face in a fierce expression, every muscle tensed and ridged, his lips pulled back slightly to reveal his clenched teeth. He could be in pain if she wasn't intimatly aware that he wasn't.

Abruptly his face softened more than she'd ever seen it, relaxed in sated pleasure, and his eyes slowly blinked open. He stared down at her for a long moment, both of them breathing harshly. Just as Sansa was about to be overwhelmed by the emotions that were so clearly visable in the steel of his eyes, he closed them off to her.

Pulling himself free of her body, he rolled off of her and onto his back beside her. Sansa felt uncommonly cold without his body heat now. Even without looking at him she could tell he was shutting her out already. The sting of that was irritating, especially since her body was still humming from the pleasure he'd brought her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end!

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked a moment later without looking at her. Sansa rolled to her side to face him, pillowing her head on one curled up arm. The other she lifted hesitantly to rest on his chest.

"No. That was well worth the wait." She thought he may have grinned at that, but she couldn't quite tell since he still hadn't looked at her. "Are you okay?" she finally asked him. "You...you're pulling away from me again. I can feel it."

His head snapped to the side to look her at, his brow furrowed in a scowl. "Again? When have I been able to pull away before?"

Sansa stared at him in utter disbelief, her mouth open slightly. "Are you kidding me?" she sat up to look at him. "You can't be serious right now."

"What?" he scowled harder. "What the fuck are you on about, girl?"

"The last six months, Sandor." she snapped at him. "Six months of you pulling away and keeping a ridiculous distance between us. Why did you even come over here tonight if you were just going to do it again?"

His scowl softened and he ran a hand across his face before sitting up and leaning back against her headboard. He was still wearing the full condom on his now mostly softened cock. It was an unwanted distraction.

"I wasn't..." he paused, then leveled her with a stare. "I've been on house arrest the last eight months. I couldn't leave my apartment. My ankle monitor was just removed this morning."

Sansa sat in shocked silence for a moment, reeling from his admition. He hadn't been avoiding her or denying her. He had been unable to offer her any thing more.

"Why?" she whispered, shifting so she could pull a pillow into her lap as she sat crisscross facing him and cover most of her nakedness.

"You really don't know why?" he eyed her suspiciously.

"No." she shook her head. "I avoided the news reports whenever I could. I'd heard...I heard you'd gone to prison though. "

"Aye, I did." he ran a hand over his face again.

"What happened?"

"I was charged with attempted murder. Sentenced to five years in prison. Got a reduced sentence if I testified against the entire Lannister clan, so I did. Spent a year in a cell, then eight months on house arrest." he rolled his shoulders. "I'll be on probation for another year."

Sansa swallowed a lump in her throat as she watched him speaking. She had a terrible feeling she was at the root of his troubles and part of her didn't want to ask. But she needed to know.

"Attempted murder?" she whispered the question. "Of who?"

Steel grey eyes cut to her and held her gaze. "Meryn Trant. He'd followed me the night I took you back to Jon, charged with bringing you back." he kept looking at her. "I wasn't about to let the buggering cunt lay a single fucking hand on you again. So I made sure he couldn't."

"Oh, Gods." Sansa breathed out shakily, a hand coming up to rest at the base of her throat where her pulse hammered rapidly.

Sandor sneered at her. "What is it, girl?" he rasped cruely. "Just realizing what sort of dog it was that fucked you?"

Her hand fell away from his throat. "What?" she drew her brows together at him. "No. Sandor, I..." she trailed off, not knowing how to tell him what she was thinking. She moved again, tossing the pillow off the side of the bed and scooting up so she was sitting back on her heels right next to him. Ignoring the hot flush that followed his blatant persual of her nakedness, she took his face in both of her hands and forced him to look at her. Then she dropped a kiss to his burnt temple. Then his cheek bone. His jawline. Just under where his ear should have been. The burnt corner of his lips.

She pulled back just enough that she could look at his eyes again. They were closed at first, his chest rising and falling in short, hard breaths. His eyes fluttered open, barely contained intensity pulsing in them. "Sandor." she whispered his name, tears stinging her eyes and making her nose tickle. "I had no idea. You..." she swallowed against her sore throat. "You did so much for me. Far more than I was even aware of." she kissed his lips softly. "Thank you. Thank you so very much."

"I don't need your bloody thanks, girl." he tried his hardest to inflict his usual bitterness into his tone, but it didn't quite work. "I let him touch you. Let him hurt you. Trant, Blount, fucking Joffrey. Damn it, Sansa. I was too fucking late."

"No." she said firmly. "You...Sandor, you saved me. If Trant had gotten to me that night..." she left the sentence unfinished. They both knew what would have happened to her.

"And you're here now." she smiled at him, slowly lifting a leg over both of his so she straddled his thighs.

"Who says I'm staying?" he ground out and Sansa felt the sting of his words like he'd intended.

"Are you going?" she asked softly.

"I should." he lifted her off of him and swung his legs off the side of her bed and Sansa felt her chest sieze up. She quickly rose while he delt with the condom and pulled on her robe before sitting at the edge of the bed and watched silently as he hastily redressed. He didn't so much as look at her, not saying two words as he jerked his boots back on and went to her door to leave.

"You should know, Sandor." she spoke, stopping him one step out of her room. He turned halfway to look back at her. "If you leave right now, like this, you can't come back." the tears that had been simmering in her eyes spilled over but she didn't cry out loud.

"I waited for you for six months. Probably more, if I'm being honest. You're the reason why I chose this town in the first place." she swallowed as more tears spilled over. "But I'm not going to sit around waiting any longer. You walk out now and...and it's for the last time. I don't want to play games or this 'will they or won't they'. You told me once you hated liars. Well, I'm being as honest as I can be right now." she angrily swipped at her wet cheeks.

"I want you, Sandor. I...want to see you again, and not just through a window."

"I'm a fucking convict, Sansa." he spat at her. "Fifteen gods damned years older than you. I won't even be able to leave the buggering state without calling someone to ask permission. I'm scarred. I'm ugly. I'm mean and crass without a single ounce of status." he scoffed and shook his head, the burnt corner of his mouth twitching.

"There's something wrong with you if you want this." he motioned to himself.

Sansa stood from the bed, her hands on her hips. "Those were all reason why I shouldn't want you. Or reasons _you_ think I shouldn't want you, but I know all of that. And I don't care. And you're wrong on one count, in my opinion anyway. You're not ugly, you're...brilliantly handsome." he opened his mouth as if to say something but Sansa lifted her hand to stop him.

"No. Just listen. Not a thing you've said is why you don't want me. If you don't, if you tell me you don't want me, then I won't argue. You can leave and there will be no drama or pleading. Just tell me."

He turned fully to face her now, stepping back inside her bedroom with the angriest look she'd ever seen from him directed at her. Her stomach rolled and her heart stopped. He was going to do it. He was going to be mean and rude and harsh and cut her down with his words. She could see it building up inside of him, could make out his mind turning over new cruel things to say to her. Sansa sucked in a fortifying breath, closing her eyes and letting her chin drop to her chest. This was going to hurt. Probably more than she was prepared for.

"You're too fucking perfect." was what he finally said, surprising her a little. She lifted her eyes and looked at him. He was still glaring at her so she didn't think he meant it as a compliment. "A bloody Stark. You think your family would willingly let you and I be together?"

"No, Sandor." she nearly yelled at him, stepping up into him and not giving a damn if he was angry. She was too. "Not _their_ reasons. _Your_ reasons. One reason why _you_ don't want _me_. Or are you just a...a...a damned coward. The big bad Sandor Clegane scared of a little bird because she looks at him and makes him feel." she stomped her foot like a child. "Tell me, damn it!" Her tirade, and possibly her cursing, obviously shocked him. His scowl slipped and his head jerked back, his eyes widening slightly.

"Well?" she demanded.

The hard, angry look came back in his eyes. "You want to know why I don't want you?" he growled, sneering at her and stalking closer. "You smile too much. You're strong willed and so damned level headed." he spat each word like it was the vilest of curses. "You're sweet and smart and so fucking pretty it hurts my godsdamned chest just to look at you." he yelled the last part.

Confused, stuck somewhere between being insulted and flattered, Sansa stared at him with her mouth open, tears pouring down her cheeks.

"I have no idea what I'm supposed to take away from that, Sandor." she finally whispered. "You said those things like they were bad, but...but they all seemed nice."

"I know!" he shouted, throwing his arms up. Standing as close as they were, Sansa instinctively stepped away from the gesture. He scowled at that. "This is what you do to me, Sansa. I want you so bleeding bad I think I might go crazy at times, but I know I shouldn't. I keep trying to think of reasons why I don't. Why I shouldn't. I did it a million fucking times a day when you were with Joff. You're vain. You're shallow. You're ignorant and naïve. You're stupid and vapid, nothing more than empty courtesies and incessant chirping."

Sansa felt a burning pain in her breast, and she fought against bending over with the force of the pain. Well, she'd asked him to give her a reason. He'd given her plenty. Maybe she should have just let him go when he tried to leave earlier.

"Alright." she forced the words out of her throat. "I think...I think I'd like for you to leave now. I apologize for keeping you here against your..."

"Sansa Stark!" he snapped, making her jump. "Shut up. Listen." His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides and then he let out a long, slow breath that was almost like a growl and his body untensed. "Those are things I used to tell myself. How I got by everyday fucking life watching you with him. But those things aren't true. They've never been true." he angrily scrubbed his hands across his face. "Don't...don't ever let somebody make you believe shit like that. Especially me."

"Then..." Sansa felt a little like pulling her hair out at the moment. "I don't understand."

"I want you. I've always wanted you. Never once did I think you'd want me back. I'm not good enough for you. I'm not even a whole man, Sansa. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"So, you're just going to push me away for my own good?" she lifted a brow at him in challenge and he shrugged. "That's total and complete bullshit." she laughed and Sandor's body tensed, his eyes snapping back to her in shock.

"What?"

"It's bullshit." she repeated. "I'm a grown woman. I can make my own choices. And I'd like to think I'm a smart woman. Pragmatic and sensible. Aside for the horror show that became Joffrey Baratheon, I've made relatively good choices. And when I don't, I handle the fallout." she pointed a finger at him. "I choose you, Sandor. You don't make that call. Now, you can not choose me, and that's fine. I'll deal with that. But mine isn't a decision that you get to make."

For a long time Sandor didn't say anything, just stood staring at her with slightly slumped shoulders. Sansa was panting for breath, her cheeks flushed from her outburst.

"Well." he finally said. "Like I said, strong willed." A small smile quirked his mouth and he held his arms out to his sides. "Come here."

A tentative happiness tried to bloom in her chest. Sansa pushed it down for now and resisted going to him. "For how long?"

His hands fell to his sides again. "For as long as you want."

"And you won't try and push me away any more?"

"I wasn't trying to." he ran his knuckles along his burn scars again. "I just think you should be clear on what sort of man I am."

"You have flaws Sandor." she said softly. "We all do. And in full disclosure you should know I'm not perfect. I tend to cry at the drop of a hat. I'm the pickiest eater in the world. I never remove the dishes from the dishwasher. Joffrey used to say I was needy when we were together, and maybe I am a little. And there will always, and I mean always, be panties and bras and stockings hanging up in odd places to dry." his lips jumped in a small grin at the last part and Sansa smiled with him.

"None of those are deal breakers, Sansa."

"None of yours are either." She bit her lip and then took a deep breath. "This last part might be, though."

Sandor's mouth twitched but he didn't say anything.

"I don't want a casual relationship. And I won't share. If we're going to be together, then it'll be just me."

Sandor, with a completely serious face, stalked towards her. "Sansa, there are girls you fuck for fuckings sake." he grasped the knot of the belt of her robe. "You aren't one of those girls." he pulled the knot free. "Only an idiot would look at you and think that." he parted the fabric of the robe so each side caught on her breasts, just barely keeping them covered. One large, calloused finger traced down her sternum and circled her navel softly.

Sansa licked her lips and took a shaky breath. "What sort of girl am I then?"

His finger drew back up between her breasts and skimmed her collar bone, then he gripped the side of her neck lightly. "The keeping sort."

Fresh tears filled her eyes and she tried her hardest to swallow them back. Her throat was far too tight to speak. Her reaction seemed to amuse him and he smiled slightly as he brought up his other hand and skimmed the robe off her shoulders.

"I won't share either." he said in a low voice and Sansa smiled in return.

"Good." she stepped up to him and began working on the buttons of his jeans. "You've got catching up to do."

Together they got him undressed in little to no time and she immediately cradled his still mostly soft manhood. He groaned loudly and let his hands fall way from her, his head tipping back. As she touched him and smoothed her hands over him, he grew harder, thicker. Sansa smiled to herself as she watched what her attentions did to him. She glanced up at his face to find him watching her closely.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted your hands on me." he rasped. "Watching you these last six months." he shook his head a little. "Getting myself off while thinking of you with that ice, or in those thigh highs. Fuck, girl, I can't even hear Elton John anymore without getting turned on." Sansa laughed at his last confession and he grinned as well.

"I'm sure Sir Elton would be flattered." Sandor gave her a narrowed eyed look, then caught both her wrists in his hands, stopping her stroking of him.

"Sit down." he backed her up a step and gave her shoulders a gentle push backwards so she dropped onto the edge of the bed. Before she could make a move to scoot back and lay down, Sandor dropped to his knees in front of her, which put him eye level with her, and kissed her until she was hot and squirmy and clutching at his arms and shoulders, her fingers threading into his hair. While he kissed her mostly senseless, his hands smoothed up her thighs, one going around to the small of her back, the other dipping between her thighs and sliding through her folds. They both moaned at the feeling. Sandor's mouth tore away from hers and he kissed down her torso as he pulled her hips closer to the edge of the bed.

"Lean back on your hands." he said against her stomach. "But don't lay down. I want you to watch me." Heat licked up her body and Sansa did as he asked without hesitation. His eyes crawled up her reclined body, lingering on her breasts, then met her gaze. He sat back on his haunches and gripped both her calves.

"Put your legs on my shoulders." Lip firmly caught between her teeth, she slowly lifted one leg and then the other to rest on his shoulders. The action forced her thighs wide and lifted her pelvis a little so every inch of her was fully exposed to him. And Sandor took full advantage of that, his face flushing darkly as he took in the sight of her. Sansa watched his reaction to her with a mixture of embarrassment and an odd sense of pride that she could elicit that response from him.

"I've never seen a woman with red hair down here." his fingers gently tugged at her curls and Sansa gasped.

"Do you...would you rather me be shaved?" She knew most men liked that. Or so she assumed anyway. No one had ever actually said that to her. She kept things neat down there, but going completely bare seemed like such a hassle.

"No." was all he said in answer, seeming somewhat distracted as he brought his other hand up to pull her apart. "Christ, you're pretty."

All thought flew from Sansa's head when he lowered his mouth and covered her, licking her in one firm, slow slide from her opening to her curls. He did that several times, varying the pressure he used and gauging her reaction. Once he seemed satisfied with her preference, he focused on her clit. He traced circles around it, fluttered just the tip of his tongue across it, sucked it softly. He was playing with her, but Sansa didn't mind. Not in the least. Especially when her core started to tighten and she began moving her hips in motion with him. Her arm muscles quivered with the effort to continue holding herself up but she liked seeing Sandor there, his eyes darting up to watch her reaction every now and then. The second he pushed two fingers inside of her, her arms gave out and she collapsed back with a shout of pleasure. Then his fingers pressed deeper, hooked slightly, and began pumping at the same pace as his tongue against her clit. She came against his mouth and around his fingers with a loud shout and moan. He stayed with her, easing up on the pressure he used as she came down, slowing his fingers until he was just holding them inside of her, her walls still contracting around them. Between her legs she heard him whisper the word 'fuck'.

"Oh Gods." she breathed out then winced a little as he pulled his fingers free and dropped one last kiss to her clit. He let her legs fall from his shoulders heavily as he crawled up her boneless body to hover over her, a smug smile on his face. Sansa couldn't help but smile back at him. She shivered as he traced his still wet fingers up her ribs and circled her nipple. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to be on full alert at the moment.

"I think I need a moment." she managed to say.

"I thought guys were the ones who needed recovery time."

"My muscles feel like jelly. I won't be much help, but if you want..."

"Oh no." he shook his head. "I did all the work last time. This time I'm laying back while you ride me."

"Oh." she whispered, liking the sound of that very much. Sandor chuckled darkly at her reaction then kissed her hard and deep, his tongue swirling inside of her mouth, reminding her of what he'd just done to her, and she felt a renewed strength enter her bones. Pushing up off of the bed to stand, he offered her a hand and helped her up as well. Once she was on her feet, he kissed her again, then moved to the side of the bed and lay back against the pillows, grabbing a condom off the nightstand and chuckling to himself as he eyed her vibrator.

"At least I'll be saving money on batteries now." she teased him, climbing up on top of him to straddle his thighs, his erection rising up in front of her. She took the now open condom packet from him and pulled it out herself.

"Don't be so sure." he watched as she placed the rubber at the head of his cock. "I can think of a lot of ways to use that thing."

"Oh, yeah?" she rolled the latex down his length, maybe a little more enthusiastically than needed. Sandor didn't complain though, only watched and groaned every once in a while. When it was all the way on and she was cupping his balls, she looked back up at his face to find him waiting for her.

"Sweet, innocent little Sansa Stark is a tease." he grinned. "Who knew?"

"I'm not a tease!" Sandor lifted his brow at her and she could almost see his thoughts. The dancing, the ice, the strip tease, and now the extended act of putting on the condom.

"Alright, maybe." she leaned down and kissed him. "But so far you're the only one who's brought it out in me." With a low growl he caught her hips and pulled her so she slid over his length.

"I'll be the only one, Sansa." he rasped against her lips.

"The only one." she agreed on a breath.

***

Late the next morning, Sansa was taking a shower with a permanent smile on her face. Her body was pleasantly sore. Muscles she hadn't known she had ached and her center throbbed and was tender to the touch. That's what happened when you went two and a half years without sex only to indulge in an all nighter with someone Sandor Clegane's size.

Getting out of the shower, she dressed and dried her hair before going back out into the living room in search of Sandor only to find him not there. Her heart skipped a beat and her smile vanished. He'd left? After everything they'd said last night, he'd left? She went to her windows and looked across at his apartment. There was a sign taped to the glass.

**Be right back.**

The amount of relief she felt at reading that made her feel a little silly. Flipping on her TV to a music station, she went into the kitchen and started pulling out things to make a late breakfast. She'd just found a baking sheet for the biscuits when her front door locks jangled and the door opened. Sandor stepped inside, a cup holder with two cups in one hand and a duffle bag in the other. He was in clean clothes and he'd obviously taken a shower himself. He also had her keys in his hand before dropping them back in the bowl on the table by the door where she normally kept them. She thought for a moment to be annoyed he'd taken her keys without asking, but in reality she really didn't care.

"Morning." she called from the other side of the kitchen bar. Sandor dropped his bag on the sofa and then sat the cups on the bar.

"Morning." he pulled one cup free. "You need a coffee maker."

"I don't drink coffee." she smiled at him, eyeing the other cup.

"Obviously." he took a long drink from his cup then removed the other and pushed it across the counter towards her. "It's hot chocolate." Sansa took the cup with a smile and took a sip.

"You went home to shower." she pointed out, going back to getting the food ready.

"Smelling like lemon and flowers wasn't all that appealing." he pulled out a stool and sat down. "Besides, I needed clean clothes."

"What's in the bag?" she nodded towards the couch. "You like omelets?"

"I've spent the last eight months eating take out and roman noodles." he informed her. "Prison food before then. Anything you make is going to be better than that." Sansa grinned at that, cracking an egg into a bowl. "And the bag has some clothes in it." he ran his knuckles across his scars. "Tomorrows Christmas. I thought maybe you wouldn't want to spend it alone."

"Of course." she beamed, then leaned across the table to put both of her hands over one of his. "Sandor, just so you know in the future, I'll always want you here. When we need a break from each other, or some space, I'll tell you. And I suspect you'll tell me." Sandor grinned a little at that, then took another drink of his coffee.

"I think I can handle that."

***

Christmas morning came and Sansa woke up to an empty bed and her phone going off. She rolled over and grabbed it off her night stand.

"Hello?"

"Merry Christmas." Jon's voice came through the phone.

"Oh." she sat up and looked around the room but Sandor wasn't there. "Merry Christmas." she told her brother, pulling the blanket up to cover her nakedness. Even if they were just talking on the phone, it still felt awkward to have a conversation with her brother while nude.

"You just wake up?"

"Yeah, I...had a late night."

"All those Christmas parties, huh?" Jon chuckled.

"Yeah, that." she winced a little, thinking of what exactly kept her up late last night. "Any big plans for you today?"

"Working. You?"

"Actually, yeah." Sansa nibbled her lip for a moment, then took a breath. "I'm spending it with someone."

"Oh yeah?" Jon's response dripped with teasing mockery. "And who's that?"

"A guy." Sansa put on her best high school girl voice and smiled. 

"Sansa Stark, you dog you." Jon laughed. "Well, out with it. Who's the new guy?"

"He's actually not new, per say." she hedged a moment. "You actually know him."

"What?" Jon was serious now. "Who is it?"

"You remember the night I was able to come home? When...right after Robb..."

"Yeah." he said quietly. "I remember."

"Do you remember the man that brought me home?"

There was a brief stretch of silence.

"You mean Sandor Clegane?" another short pause. "You're dating Sandor fucking Clegane?" there was no anger in his voice. Only surprise.

"I am." she said firmly. "We're spending today together." She refrained from telling him that they'd spent the day before and the last two nights together as well.

"Damn." he laughed.

"What?" she snapped defensively. "He's amazing. And..." her voice dropped. "and I think I might love him."

"No shit?" he asked a little disbelieving.

"No shit." she laughed a little.

"Guess I owe Arya $50."

"What?" Sansa asked in confusion. "Why?"

"Arya told me you were living across from him. She said you would eventually hook up with him. I said you wouldn't. We made a bet."

"You bet on if I'd 'hook up' with someone?"

Jon laughed at her outrage. "Maybe I could get out of having to pay since you're actually dating him. That's more than just hooking up. Sounds like a viable loop hole, doesn't it?"

Sansa couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Yeah, sure. I'm going to go now. Have a good Christmas and I'll see you for the new year."

"Right. Love ya."

"Love you."

Sansa sat her phone back on the nightstand and crawled out of bed. Sandor's clothes were in a pile at the foot of the bed where he'd taken them off last night so she scooped up his shirt and pulled it on. Jerking open the door she jumped and nearly screamed to find him leaning against the opposite wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle, his arms crossed over his bare chest.

"You scared me." she glared at him. He simply shrugged and eyed her legs left bare where his shirt left off at her knees.

"That your sister on the phone?" his grey eyes pinned hers again. Sansa flushed when she realized he'd heard her on the phone. Hopefully he hadn't heard everything.

"No. It was Jon actually." she brushed past him. "Eavesdropping?"

"Not on purpose." he followed her into the living room. "I'd gotten up to shower and when I came back to the door I heard you talking. I didn't want to interrupt."

She stopped in the living room and turned to face him. "So you stood at the door and listened?"

"No." a grin kicked up the corner of his mouth. "I was walking away when I heard something that stopped me." Sansa swallowed hard and blushed even harder.

"Sandor..." He closed the distance between them and smoothed down what must have been a bad case of bedhead.

"I heard you say you were spending the day with someone. A guy. And not a new one." A little mortified, Sansa dropped her forehead to his chest, which rumbled with laughter. "A not new guy whose apparently 'amazing'." he went on, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

Sansa wondered if someone could die of embarrassment? He'd heard everything. Could she maybe just melt through the floor? His hand came up and cupped the back of her head, urging it away from his chest. With a groan, Sansa lifted away from him, but didn't look up at him. A strong hand fisted under her chin and lifted her face to his. When she looked at him, her heart hammered in her chest. She'd never seen that look on his face before.

"A man you think you love." he said the words softly.

"Can you just pretend you didn't hear any of that?" she asked him hopefully.

Sandor shrugged. "I could." the fist under her chin moved so he was holding the side of her face. "But I wont."

Sansa swallowed hard. Would this be it? Would he run now?

"Did you mean it?" he asked. "Answer me. Did you mean it?"

Sansa licked her lips and nodded. "Yes." The word was barely out of her mouth before his lips were on hers, kissing her softly, deeply. It startled her, but she responded automatically, wrapping herself around him and kissing him back just as desperately.

"I won't pretend I didn't hear it." he said against her mouth, rubbing his nose along hers. "Not when I'm thinking the same thing." Sansa laughed and sobbed at the same time, hugging him tighter. He held her back just as tight until she got herself under control.

"Come on now." he gently pushed her away from him. "You have a present under the tree." Sansa spun around and found a neatly wrapped box sitting under the tree next to the one she'd wrapped and placed there just last night.

"So do you." she pointed out.

They sat together on her sofa and opened the presents they bought each other. Sansa had gotten him a Keurig single serve coffee maker with a box of KCup dark roast to keep at her place. And Sandor had bought her yellow and grey chevron curtains.

"I'd like to keep the view all to myself now." he winked at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a fun little fic to write! Thanks for reading and thanks to all those who left kudos and comments!! It's much appreciated.


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